


Awake

by UbiquitousMixie



Category: Carol (2015), The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 08:26:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11986017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UbiquitousMixie/pseuds/UbiquitousMixie
Summary: You have never felt more awake in your life.





	Awake

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MrSchimpf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrSchimpf/gifts).



> This was written for the Alphabet Challenge, G is for Garter.   
> I've never written for this fandom before, so I hope I managed to do the character's justice! Let me know what you think!

You wake up to the sound of the shower hissing against glass and your heart rate already begins to quicken. Opening your eyes, you realize the bathroom door is ajar and can make out a sliver of naked flesh in the reflection of the mirror. You catch your breath. 

The shower door closes, and Carol is embraced by all of that hot water and steam and you wish you could get closer just to catch another glimpse of that long, beautiful, sinewy body glistening in the steady stream of the shower. 

You bite your lip because you cannot help yourself. Carol is just feet away in all of her bare, naked glory, and you are in bed. How easy it would be to shuck your pajamas and join her under that hot spray, press your tentative mouth against the nape of her neck. You would give anything, anything at all in the whole world, to do just that. 

As the water drips around her, you imagine what she must be doing. Washing her hair, cleaning her body, soaping the most intimate part of herself. Your cheeks flame at the thought of her hands between her legs and you wonder if she touches herself like that at night as you do. 

No. You cannot think of her this way, and yet the images are already there. You bite the soft flesh of your inner cheek and ball your fists to refrain from reaching between your legs to slake your thirst. 

You can make out the almost imperceptible sound of her humming and this is as good a distraction as any -- you wonder what tune is playing in her mind and if you know it. You want to learn all of her favorite songs, want all the records so you can play them when you are home, alone, without her. 

You press your lips together and rub the sleep from your eyes. This sweet torture hurts your heart; you ache for Carol and yet you know that there is so much to say that you don't have the words for. You've never wanted anyone the way you want her and the newness of this feeling completely terrifies and overwhelms you. It doesn't feel wrong to want Carol this way, but you wouldn't dare speak your truth for fear of pushing her away. You will keep your secret forever if it means also keeping Carol. 

The shower stops, and you watch in the mirror with bated breath for any glimpse of her. You see instead only the flurry of a towel being wrapped around damp, pale flesh. You bite your cheek in disappointment. 

You listen to her get ready. You hear the soft rustle of fabric and can imagine her stepping into her skirt and pulling it up her endless legs. You can hear the soft stroke of her brush through wet hair. You imagine you can hear her underwear kissing her skin. You wish you knew just what the blurry parts of her looked like, wish you were brave enough to sneak a glimpse of her to take with you for those cold, lonely nights in your little apartment.

And then, almost before you can close your eyes and feign sleep, the bathroom door opens. 

Carol is quiet as she tiptoes around the bedroom, gathering the remainder of her things. You wish you could watch her but you're not quite ready for the onslaught of emotion you feel at the sight of her. 

But then there is Carol's voice from across the room, sweetly beckoning you to wakefulness. "Wake up, sleepyhead. We've got a long day ahead of us before we get to Waterloo." 

You open your eyes slowly, not wanting to give yourself away, and your heart beats so fast that it aches to see her with one foot propped before her on a chair as she slides her silk stockings up her calves to settle at her thighs. Your throat, already thick with sleep, goes dry. Carol lifts her skirt, reaching for the strap of her garter, and hooks it around the stocking. 

You've never wanted to be an inanimate object more than you do in this moment, wishing you could be the garter that is nestled against her thigh. 

She smiles at you. 

You've never felt more awake in your life.


End file.
